Jan Sand (February 2 1926 / USA)
I do not argue with the wind
And rain may wet me if it must.
Random events leave me chagrined.
There’s not much more to be discussed.
Time passes and bestows its blows
With little logic, not much sense.
The unexpected comes and goes
Bereft of most intelligence.
My weapon is to be aware,
To face into the winds of chance,
To try to see what’s lurking there
And brace my legs in happen stance.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.